It's Not Personal
by Samur Umlal
Summary: Responding to a routine call, Nick reconnects with an old friend. Judy learns that, for the fox, becoming a cop is going to be harder than she'd realized. Can be read as Wildehopps or not, to taste.
1. Part 1: Acacia Street

The ferret ran. They usually ran, to Nick's oft-expressed frustration. He'd chased down wolves, skunks, and even a couple of out-of-shape rabbit teenagers they'd caught smoking in an alley. A year on the job and he could already run faster and longer than he'd ever been able to in his twenties.

That didn't mean he had to like it, though.

He did have to wonder, in these times, why Judy always seemed to be bringing up the rear, rabbits' top speeds being what they were. If he hadn't known better, he might have suspected his partner of aiding and abetting these little workouts.

He'd show her he didn't need the exercise.

The ferret was a junkie, in lousy condition and fueled by wild desperation. It wasn't a fair match. Nick dove forward, catching his quarry at center mass in a tackle and bringing them both to a smacking halt on the asphalt.

Almost immediately, the ferret began to thrash violently, hoping to wriggle out a second shot at freedom. Nick leaned onto him, grabbing at the smaller mammal's arms to try and pin them. The ferret whipped his long neck around, snapping viciously at the fox's left paw.

Nick withdrew his paw quickly, grabbing for the scruff of the ferret's neck instead and jamming his head down. The ferret nearly thrashed free again, wheezing manically through bared razor teeth. Nick leaned in and shouted for his partner.

"Hopps!"

Before the word had left his lips she was there, expertly capturing the ferret's arms before he could claw her, wrestling them behind his back and cuffing him as Nick held him in place. Calmly, ZPD's first rabbit officer began informing him of his multitudinous and inalienable rights under the law.

Faced with his capture, the ferret had gone semi-catatonic, flopping listlessly as they hauled him to his feet. Nick frog-marched him back in the direction of the cruiser, still holding him by the scruff of his neck. Judy followed alongside, radioing back to central and maintaining some distance until their suspect was safely ensconced within their police cruiser.

Nick allowed himself to pant a little, tongue lolling out as they leaned against the car. His partner eyed him appraisingly.

"Hard time keeping up, hm? Getting a little long in the tooth?"

"Hmm." He gazed down his snout at her, imperious. "Funny you should mention that. Because. I seem to remember you being behind me the entire way. How many of our perps have I nailed this past week? Remind me. My memory's too _old_."

She rolled her eyes, forcing back a grin.

"Wait, wait," he went on, touching a paw to the tip of his snout. "It's coming back to me! It was _all of them_."

"Okay, so you've had a lucky week," allowed the rabbit. "I'll buy you a coffee."

"So generous," said Nick. "I'll drive."

By the time they'd finished booking their suspect, they'd been due for a break. The rabbit had made good on her promise, buying Nick a massive frappuccino that he was now sipping happily across from her in a cramped Snarlbucks.

Judy studied him carefully, looking like she wanted to say something for a half a dozen beats before opening her mouth.

"I'm amazed," she said finally, "that you can down those coffees so soon. I'm usually wired after throwing down with mammals like that."

Nick shrugged. "Hey, biologically speaking, I should be asleep right now. I don't begrudge you your vegetable addiction."

"I know, just—he nearly took a bite out of you a couple of times back there."

"Oh, that's no big deal. Once you've had rabies a couple of times, it's not so scary anymore."

She gaped, and he laughed. "Come on, I'm kidding you, Carrots."

Judy gave him a smile that was only a little forced, and they were quiet for a moment—the rabbit gazing down at the table, the fox slurping the ice from the bottom of his cup. Eventually, she looked at him again, a bit of worry creeping back into her eyes.

"You know—," she hesitated. "It's...okay to use the muzzle when you have to. It doesn't make you a—you know, a hypocrite."

Nick sighed, pushing his cup aside to look at her directly.

"I know," he said. "I—look, you know I don't care what anyone else thinks. Maybe you, sometimes."

She laughed. "Sometimes."

"Very occasionally," he grinned. "But no, I just don't like it. It's not personal."

The bunny raised her eyebrows. She was hard to lie to.

"Okay," he admitted, "maybe it's a _little_ personal. But I don't judge you or, or anyone else. For using it. I just—" He searched his empty coffee cup for words. "If I can do my job without it, I will."

"All right," said Judy. "I just w—"

Their radios hissed. "One-Alpaca-One, One-Alpaca-One, report of four-fifteen, possible family violence at 565 Acacia, Apartment 4, handle code two."

"Crackers. Speak of the devil," she groused. "One-Alpaca-One roger, we'll check it out."

"You know, you're a grown bunny," Nick said, flipping his cup across the room into the trash. "You can say 'fuck' if you want."

She scooted off her big chair and made for the door. "'If I can do my job without it...'" she echoed back at him.

The fox cackled. "I'll drive," he said, following her back outside.

556 Acacia Street was an unassuming, middle-of-the-road apartment complex in Savanna Central with little to differentiate it from the surrounding buildings, or the dozens of other similar ones the two officers had shown up to in their short careers. It was familiar territory, too, only a few blocks from the neighborhood where Nick had grown up. Judy had run the address on the way. The unit in question belonged to an Alfie and Linda Chuckwood, a couple with a history of "domestic disturbances" but no arrests or restraining orders on record. Nick had paused with a twinge of recognition at the name, but said nothing.

The call was something to take seriously. Domestic disturbances often meant domestic _violence_ , and all the associated miseries. They'd told Nick at the academy that domestic violence calls were the cause of a quarter of all police deaths in the line of duty. It had surprised him at the time, but he realized it shouldn't have. The abusers he'd known in his youth were insecure mammals who feared powerlessness more than anything—being arrested was the ultimate emasculation. Which was why they were responding code two: no lights, no sirens, as quickly and as carefully as they could manage.

Knowing the city, Nick had anticipated there would be no open parking for blocks, and he was proven right, to his partner's frustration. Luckily, he'd quickly learned that, as a police officer, certain problems only existed if he acknowledged them as such. He stopped the cruiser in the right lane and set the emergency brake.

"That's not a parking spot..." grumbled his small partner as they climbed out. The pavement was hot against his paw pads.

"It's a police car, Carrots," he explained. "Anywhere we park it is a parking spot."

As they made their way toward the building, she grumbled something about abusing the badge, and the fox laughed. The bickering was cathartic—he knew Judy hated these calls, as brave and tough as the rabbit was. She cared far too much about people. So he was happy to tweak and irritate and just piss her the hell off every day, if that was what it took to keep the real darkness out.

The job was unavoidable, though, and they fell silent as they approached the front gate. Listening for shouts or signs of violence, or—there it was. Muffled female sobbing, further up the entrance way. Nick felt his teeth grind. He looked at his partner. The rabbit was moving toward the sound, big ears cocked intently. He followed.

The sobbing was intermittent, hard to make out, and there was a male voice, not raised but not friendly. Words were indistinct. They might have missed the action, he decided. Or, just maybe, arrived in time to head off a second round.

Judy, ear pressed to the wall beside the door, could hear more than him, and the fox watched as her face went from worry to focus to righteous outrage. She pushed away from the wall and set her jaw.

"Ready?" he mouthed, inclining his head toward the door. She nodded.

Nick was bigger, but Judy was better at shouting, so he pounded on the door as she announced their arrival and demanded entry. Curses made their way to the officers' ears, along with muffled scrambling. Nick gave it a moment and pounded again.

"Police! Open up now!"

There was an odd grunting and the jangling of a belt buckle, followed by thudding footsteps. Nick raised his fist again for another round of hammering—

The door opened, and a messy-faced groundhog peered out at them. He was nearly as tall as Nick, and looked to weigh more than twice as much, though it was hard to distinguish fur from fat from muscle. The resident was dressed in what might have been described as business casual, only half-buttoned and rumpled to hell. He paused for a moment, as mammals usually did, to take in the fox in uniform, squinting at the badge as if to determine its authenticity. Seemingly satisfied, the groundhog straightened up.

"Hi, officer," he slurred with a grin he apparently felt was ingratiating. Nick wrinkled his nose. The groundhog reeked of spirits. Not that it mattered—the fox had had a lot of drinks in his thirty-odd years, and a lot of girlfriends. He'd never laid a paw on any of them.

"How ya doing," Nick said with practiced politeness, even as he stepped forward to press his way into the apartment before the other could object. "Alfie Chuckwood?"

The groundhog nodded, and seemed to catch sight of Judy for the first time.

"Hey, there's another one. You the rabbit from TV?"

The rabbit from TV ignored the question. "Is your wife in, Mister Chuckwood?"

"Uh, yeah," he mumbled. "In the back."

"I'm going to need to speak with her,"

Alfie licked his lips. "She's not really feeling well right now."

Judy gave him a hard look. "I'll bet," she said, crossing the room past him.

"Alfie," Nick cut in, before the groundhog could protest. "I have some things to discuss with you while my partner talks to your wife, if that's all right."

"Officer Wilde, huh?"

"That's right, sir."

The groundhog gave him another drunken grin. "What you want to talk about?"

"We got a call about screaming from this residence. That might be a good place to start."

"Oh, yeah." He sighed. "Yeah, the wife gets a little loud when she's upset about something. She's a little, you know." He circled a finger by the side of his head.

"Mister Chuckwood, was there violence involved?"

"Look, I'm just a regular guy. I'm a mammal resources manager."

"Was there violence involved?" Nick repeated.

Alfie licked his lips again. "C'mon, man, no. Did you have any other questions? Or-"

The groundhog glanced over Nick's shoulder, and they both looked to the hallway as Judy stepped back into the living room. There was no mistaking the look in her eyes.

"Just one," said Nick. "Could you face me? And put your paws behind your back, please."

Nick had to give Alfie credit for the speed with which his flash of fear was buried by his drunken, affable facade.

"Hey, buddy, I'm not trying to give you guys a hard time," said the groundhog, backing away. "You know...it was Wilde, right? Do I know you from somewhere? You look very familiar."

There it was.

"Yes," answered the fox. "You do."

Alfie frowned. "Recently, or..."

"A ways back," Nick said. "Junior Ranger Scouts."

Over the groundhog's shoulder, Nick saw Judy raise a paw to her mouth. Alfie's throat bobbed. Now they all knew. Nick stared, hard-eyed, at his former bully as the other seemed to catch up with the reality of his situation.

"Oh, yeah," Alfie murmured. "Yeah, look. I'm sorry about that, man. Kids make mistakes, right?"

"Not just kids," Nick said. "Paws behind your back."

Alfie bit down on his lower lip and reluctantly did as instructed, eyes flicking around nervously. Mammal resources manager or no, childhood history or no, something about him was getting Nick's hackles up. Judy stepped up behind the groundhog, cuffs out. He twisted to see what she was doing.

"Eyes front," Nick snapped, feeling his snout start to curl in a snarl. Alfie looked back at Nick, there was a jangle of metal as Judy reached up with the cuffs—

And the big groundhog struck, throwing an elbow hard into the rabbit's face.


	2. Part 2: Downtown

Judy was caught flat-footed by the impact, knocked straight off her feet and halfway across the living room, where she lay curled on her side. Alfie took a step toward her.

That tore it.

Nick lunged forward, grabbed the groundhog by the scruff of his neck, and threw him headfirst into the wall. There was a crunch of plaster as the drywall gave way, sending flecks of aged paint into fur. Nick pulled the Alfie back and into a headlock, jamming his shoulder back against the wall.

The groundhog seemed to have fully committed to his awful decision, and thrashed viciously against his captor. Nick felt his paws leave the floor a couple of times, but hung on gamely, tightening his arm around Alfie's neck as he struggled to get control of the other's free arm. It was a war of attrition, now, wherein one mammal was a fox in the best shape of his life, while the other was a mammal resources manager.

It must have become obvious to Alfie that he was going to lose, because he abruptly whipped his head down and sank his teeth into Nick's paw. Stars exploded across the fox's vision as the groundhog twisted free from his grip.

Nick punched him in the face. It connected hard, and Alfie reeled backward, smashing into a coat rack. Nick hit him again, hard.

As the groundhog went to push himself upright, a gray blur hit him sideways at knee height, sending him crashing over in the other direction. Nick was on him in a second, jamming his face to the floor with his good paw. His other paw, definitely bleeding now, went to his duty belt. Not for cuffs—his partner was handling that.

He unclipped the pouch and pulled the muzzle restraint free, pleather straps flapping in his shaking claws. He struggled to fit it on—the thing was shaped for long, carnivorous muzzles, and his paws were angry and unpracticed—but the decision was made, and he was going to make it work. He clicked the fasteners and pulled the straps taut, digging grooves in coarse brown fur. Stepping away, he caught Alfie's eye. There was a look of impotent hatred and helplessness written on the groundhog's face, something that twisted in the fox's gut even as he felt more than a little personal satisfaction at what he and Judy had just managed.

Nick was breathing a little easier, with the task done, but his heart kept pounding. Alfie had given up struggling, for the moment, but the feeling in his gut was spreading into a kind of buzzing dread, was flitting in and out of Nick's consciousness. He shook his head a little to clear it. Their job wasn't over yet.

"That was not very smart," Nick informed the mammal underneath him.

"Fuck you, Wilde."

"Didn't miss me much, I guess?"

"Never thought about you," gritted the groundhog. "Figured you'd be dead in a gutter by now. Or in jail."

"Well, isn't that ironic. Because...you're under arrest."

"For what?"

"For resisting arrest—"

"You can't arrest me for resisting arrest, you shifty little—"

"For resisting arrest, assaulting an officer, and domestic battery."

"Domestic—? Bullshit. What'd she tell you?"

The fox wasn't fully listening. The buzzing was still there, intensifying every time he looked at their prisoner. Alfie continued his protestations as Judy hauled him bodily to his feet. Nick took his shoulder, and the two officers marched him, muzzled and cuffed, out the door. Judy was on the radio with central, relaying Linda Chuckwood's state—not in danger, but in need of attention—and their status, while Nick was enumerating Alfie's rights off the top of his head.

"You memorized those pretty good, fox. Just like the scout's oath, huh? Bet it'll do you about as much good. Year from now, ZPD will have fired your dirty ass. And I'll still be making more than you. And your whore mother."

"Shut the _FUCK UP_."

The voice wasn't either of theirs. The groundhog turned first to look at Judy, the fox processing her words a moment later. The rabbit was glaring daggers, nose bleeding freely down to her chin from Alfie's blow. She unballed one fist to point at him, paw shaking in fury.

"He spends every day helping people—how _dare_ you even... _think_ you're better than him. You...you _abusive jerk_."

Alfie, momentarily taken aback by her outburst, had recomposed himself and looked ready to say something horrible again, so...

"Time to get in the car!" Nick declared brightly, forcing the buzzing dread from his mind. He needed to be present for this. They'd made it to the cruiser, so he pulled the door open and shoved the groundhog down by the top of his head, pushing him inside.

Nick slammed the door and turned to his partner. Judy had always had fire. It was part and parcel of who she was: quick to feeling and not afraid to show it. But the sheer, searing lividity of her expression had the fox taking a half-step back in spite of himself. She was, easily, as angry as he'd ever seen her.

The bright blood streaming from her snout didn't help.

"Haha. Carrots. Hey," he began lamely, guiding her out of earshot with a paw. "Take it easy, huh?"

"He can't _talk_ to you like that," she ground out.

"It's a free country."

"Is he the one from...when you were a kid? The muzzle?"

Nick shrugged. "That was a long time ago."

"I'm gonna kill him."

Nick laughed weakly. "You can't kill him, Carrots, we're the police."

She glared at him, but some of the fire faded. Her shoulders slumped.

"You're bleeding, Fluff."

"It's just a little."

" _You're_ little. You don't have that much blood."

She laughed. "Shut up, Nick. I have lots of blood."

"That's for the FME to decide."

"I'm not done talking about this, Nick. You look like you saw a ghost."

"The _ghost of my past_ ," he said, waving his paws theatrically. Remembering, belatedly, that one of them was bleeding pretty badly as well.

"I'm serious," Judy insisted.

"Fine, but you're getting medical attention first, once our backup gets here."

She pointed at his bloodied paw. "We're _both_ getting medical attention first."

ZPD headquarters was a madhouse, with several dozen officers running to and fro as Nick and Judy arrived with prisoner in tow. Still handcuffed and muzzled, Alfie had grown quiet, perhaps as the gravity of his situation had begun to settle in. But he'd seemed, from the time Nick had first known him, to be the type of mammal for whom consequences never seemed to stick. More likely, the groundhog was thinking about what he'd be saying to an expensive lawyer as soon as he was able. Or maybe the humiliation of the muzzle was doing its work. The fox's stomach twisted in...contempt, probably. He wasn't sure.

"Hey!" boomed a voice ahead of them, and Fenrir Wolford came bounding around a throng of officers. They'd radioed ahead for assistance, so his appearance wasn't unexpected. Fenrir was bombastic and coarse, though, and Nick would have preferred someone else, at the moment. The wolf drew to a halt in front of them, eyeing their captive appraisingly. He cocked his head

"Yo, everybody!" Wolford howled, seemingly to the entire station. "Wilde finally muzzled somebody!" There was a smattering of whoops and whistles. Nick gazed at the other officer flatly.

"Yeah, thanks, Fenrir. Think you can get this guy to booking while Hopps and me get over to medical?"

Wolford glanced at Judy, did a double-take as he seemed to catch her bloodied face for the first time. "Damn, Hopps. You look like hell. How you holding up?"

Judy gave the wolf a bombastic thumbs-up.

"I love this bunny," he cackled. "Sure, I'll take him. Your name's going on the paperwork, though. This guy looks like trouble."

"Fine," Nick nodded. "Domestic battery, resisting arrest—" He caught Alfie shaking his head out of the corner of his eye. "—assaulting an officer. To start with. We'll come by and get it written up later."

"Got it, fox." Wolford grabbed the groundhog by the arm and began to hustle him off toward booking. "You two kids go smooth out your fur. Oh, and Wilde…"

Nick looked up. Wolford smirked and reached out a claw to snag Alfie's muzzle and jerk it hard, sending the groundhog stumbling forward a few steps. Nick didn't need to see Alfie's face to know what would be written there, the impotent fury and fear and humiliation. He knew it would be familiar.

"...nice work," the wolf winked and laughed, and suddenly the ZPD lobby smelled an awful lot like a dingy basement. Watching the two disappear into the crowd, Nick didn't hear Judy calling his name until she put a paw on his back. He jumped horribly before she ushered him gently in the direction of the force medical examiner's office.

He didn't answer many of the medical officer's questions, he would remember later. The fox had stared at the wall as his partner filled in the officer on the details of the scuffle. The bites on his paw were washed and swabbed down with an alcoholic disinfectant which, some distant intellectual part of his brain acknowledged, burned like absolute hell. Judy's eyes flicked to his paw and up to his face, his lack of reaction. He caught her ears tucking behind her head in worry, and wondered if she ever minded having such an obvious tell.

"...should take care of it for now, but you'll want to take it to urgent care," the medic was saying. Nick stared at him dumbly.

"He will," Judy answered, nodding vigorously. "I mean, we will. Thank you."

She clapped Nick on the shoulder, and it was like a dozen paws grabbed him. He shrank away.

"Come on, partner," she murmured. "Let's get outside."

They walked in silence for a minute, heading out towards the motor pool. The rabbit didn't menace him with any further grabs or touches, but she was stealing looks at him when she thought he couldn't see. Stewing. It wasn't until they were seated in the car that she spoke up again.

"Is something wrong, Nick? I know what that groundhog said to you—"

"No." His tail lashed irritably.

She hissed in frustration. "Come on, you're being weird. Can we talk about what happened?"

"No. Let's just go."

"Fine," she said, patting the keys in the ignition. "But I'm not going anywhere until your seatbelt's buckled."

"What?!" he demanded, frustrated. _What?_

He looked up at the belt dangling over him, metal buckle glinting. The buzzing was back. She—Judy—was frowning now, speaking sharply to him from a hundred miles away. She was angry at him, throwing her paws up, why was she—

" _What did I DO?_ "he spat, baring his teeth.

She stopped mid-gesticulation, looking at him oddly for the second time that day. But there was nothing but inexplicable horror coursing through him now. The car was closing in on him.

"What did I do?" he repeated, more softly. He was looking around, feeling his voice break and his breath get short as frustration gave way to fear. The rabbit was staring at him. The car was getting smaller, and she was getting farther away. His heart pounded in his chest.

She'd disappeared out of the car, somehow. Nick was alone with the terror. He kicked out at the dashboard as it rose toward his face, trying to twist away from the paws of the seat back as they swiped at his shoulders.

 _What did I do?_

Then there was air and sun on his face as she threw open the passenger-side door. Her face was worried, her words cajoling. Offering him a paw, at arm's length. She didn't move forward when he shrank from her, but kept her paw out. Kept talking softly. Asking him if he wanted to get out.

 _Yes._

Haltingly, he reached out, leaning away from the seat to take her paw. It was small and soft, and she didn't pull him, coaxing him gently out of his seat. He lowered a shaky footpaw onto the running board of the cruiser, the rabbit still murmuring encouraging words. She guided him back down to the asphalt, then towards the front of the vehicle, over to the tire. He leaned against it and slid down onto his haunches, staring at nothing, ears pinned back.

He was hyperventilating, staring at nothing, but the rabbit was still there, positioning herself directly in front of him—big shimmering pools of violet salve that he could tumble into.

"It's okay," she was saying.

"What did I do?" he asked, desperately.

She shook her head. "You didn't do anything."

"What did…"

"You didn't do anything. You're here with me, Nick."

"Here?"

"We're in the parking lot of the ZPD. You're with friends."

His breathing, still heavy, was slowing.

"What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything."

Parts of the past five minutes were coming back, commingling with a guilt and fear that was much, much older. It all ran together, somehow.

"I...I made you mad."

"It's not your fault, Nick."

"I'm sorry."

Her mouth hung open, and it occurred to him that she'd probably never heard him apologize for anything.

"I'm sorry," he said, for that too.

"Nick—," she said, reaching out and capping the tip of his nose with a paw. "You haven't done anything wrong. It's okay."

Another, cooler part of him was beginning to stir, recognizing the wreck he'd transformed into in front of his police partner, and signalling to Nick Central the extent of this embarrassment. He reached out and took her wrist, lifting it away from his nose and toward her lap.

"Carrots," he said. "Partner. Fluff. You can't tell anybody about this."

"Of course not. But—"

"Not really on-brand for ol' Nick."

"I don't care if you're on-brand."

"Not sure they let you have this type of thing and be a cop."

She put a hand on his paw again. "They do, Nick. There's services." She blinked. "Does this happen a lot?"

"Not...not really," he said, surprised he was being so honest with her. He didn't have the energy to do anything else. "Two or three times a year."

She looked like she was thinking.

"Please don't tell anyone," he said again, to forestall whatever she was going to say next. "Not even my mom knows."

The bunny gave him a Look.

"Okay, two things," she said. "One, _partner,_ I have got your back. Always. I'm not going to tell anyone your business."

"Yeah?" he replied lamely.

"Yeah." She squeezed his paw with uncanny strength. "And, two...you're a huge dummy and you should absolutely tell your mom because she loves you."

"You haven't even met my mom."

"I did, once. At the graduation. She's a sweetheart."

"She'd worry."

"Let her worry about you," Judy insisted. "She's your _mom_."

They were both quiet for a moment.

"Anyway…" Judy went on. "Sorry. I was supposed to be helping."

He gave her a smile. A real smile, not his usual brand. "You did. You are."

She looked almost relieved. "Yeah?"

"Yeah, Carrots. Thanks. I owe you lunch."

"Hmm. I think, first, I owe us both a drive to urgent care."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot we were grievously injured." He waggled his bandaged paw.

Judy glowered. "That guy was really one of your Junior Ranger Scouts?"

"Real piece of work, huh?"

"Oh, I am going to show _up_ for his arraignment," she said, thumping her foot. "With popcorn."

Nick nodded seriously. "I'll bring a soda. And slurp it really loud."

She laughed, and stepped around his knees to hug him from the side. He jumped again, but just a little, and relaxed, putting his good paw around her back.

"So huggy," he admonished.

"Whatever," she said. "You could use more hugs."

"Someone's gonna see us, though."

"Hugs aren't against regulations."

"They're gonna think we're _canoodling_ , Carrots."

"Ugh, fine. You're gross."


End file.
